Excel Saga: How do you parody a parody?
by Inspector Dim
Summary: A new series of Exel weirdness. Mostly combining my two stories into one series. PLUS: New chapter up and revised!
1. To kill a MangaKa

(Excel Sage) To kill a mangaka  
  
An Excel Sage Fanfic  
  
By Paul D Wright  
  
  
Disclaimers: Nothing is owned, all is borrowed.  
  
The secret organization ACROSS. Prefecture F, city F.  
Inside, a girl ran down long corridors singing "ACROSS will take over the city.."  
Her name was Excel, age 19. No arrests, no record.   
she jumped down long corridors, met her partner in crime, Hyatt, who coughed up blood on  
Excel's freshly cleaned outfit, and went to see her leader, the head of ACROSS, Il Palaza,  
currently practicing his Blofeld routine.  
"Not, MEEESTAH Bond... Now, MEESTAR BAND.. No, no.. NOW, MEESTAHHH  
BAAHND..."  
"HI, Il PALAZA-SAMA!!"  
"Excel, what have I said about knocking?"  
"Sorry, but I just wanted so much to get this assignment over with, that I just couldn't wait to  
get in here, your wonderful presence..."  
  
Nabeshin practiced martial arts moves, flinging his arms around, jumping up, slicing the air with  
a katana, throwing KI blast around, and finally, standing there, letting a glow envelope him.   
His Afro glowed with a yellow light, and he flashed fire, and stood there, a figure coiled in yellow   
light.  
A figure stood, roasting a hot dog on a stick in his aura.  
"It's ready, Nabeshin!"  
"Hmmm... Lunch!!"  
  
Il Palaza sighed. For an hour, Excel had stood there, babbling, barely letting him get a word in  
edgewise. He wiped his brow, and tried again.  
"You assignment, Excel.."  
"YES SIR, Il Palaza-sama, I, Excel, shall, for the greater glory of ACROSS..."  
"Is to assassinate the manga artist Rikudo Koshi.."  
  
A study, in the town of F, prefecture F.   
A figure sat huddled over a paper design, humming a disrespectful ditty about manga artist.  
The doorbell rang.  
"Who is it," the man yelled, pausing momentarily in his work.  
A voice behind the door said, "Plumber!"  
"Nothing wrong with the plumbing!" He shouted back.  
"Oh.. um, Repairperson!"  
"Nothing is broken here!"  
A pause. The artist started to go back to his work, when the voice said:  
"Candygram!"  
That got him off his work, and to the door. Opining it wide revealed a young girl, with blond  
hair, a space look. She bound in, held a sword at his throaght.  
"For your crimes against nature, you shall be punished!! I, Excel of the Across, shall be the one to  
smite thee!! You shall feel my blade, and your blood will.."  
He jumped back, pausing.  
"Don't I know you, young lady?"  
She looked deflated, said:   
"Idiot! I'm your creation, Rikudo Koshi. Excel, of the manga of the same name! Jeeze, if you.."  
"Oh yeah. Just checking. Alright then, young lady, let's get this over with!"  
Excel adopted a pose, holding the sword in her left hand, flat, her right hand guiding it's blade at  
the manga creators heart.  
"Ha!" he said, "Like your stolen move will harm me! GIVE ME THE POWER!!"  
He reached for his trousers. Excel looked surprised.  
From them, he drew a sword from his crotch.  
"To REVOLUTIONIZE THE Place!! I HAVE THE POWER!!"  
"So, does that make you the Rose Baka?" she said.  
  
The great Will of the Universe looked around.  
"I hate when company comes over and doesn't clean up."  
Pedro sighed.  
"It's even worse when they bring guests," he said.  
"Yeah. Still, at least we got the roast done. Flame-head was good for something."  
"Still.. wished he's have shut up about revenge."  
"And who was that Strange guy, anyway?"  
  
"For that, I shall not forgive you!!" Rikudo yelled, "Prepare yourself!"  
He charged her, she brought the sword up, a clash of sound and fury.  
Another pass, same result.  
  
A small white dog sat in her cage, reading a book titled FAMOUS ESCAPE ARTIST.  
She then proceeded to pick the lock of the cage, and run out.  
Hyatt appeared, looked over the scene. Blood shot out of her mouth, she wiped it off,  
said:   
"Looks like Menchi's escaped again."  
  
Rikudo paused. He stood there, eyeing young Excel, in way none to pleasing way.  
He thrust the sword back into his pants, quite near his crotch.  
"Alright, then. With this technique, you will perish!"  
He put a hand over the handle of the sword, and stood there.  
Excel sweatdropped, said: "You sure that's what you wanna do?"  
"Shut up and attack!" Rikudo said. She shrugged, did that stance again, leapt at him.  
He suddenly pulled the sword out, blocked her attack with a force, and they leaped to  
opposite corners. He smirked.  
Excel noticed the blade of his weapon was glistening, dropping in scarlet slivers...  
Uh, oh, she thought.  
Rikudo felt the wet hit his hand, looked at the blade, screamed like a girl.  
He fell to his knees, said (In a high, squeaky voice), "Help me, Excel.."  
She winced, pulled the blade up, swung it down, let the scarlet arc of it's passing replace the  
artist's head. She sighed.   
"Oh, well.. that's ONE perverted Manga artist done. I Hope Il Palaza is pleased with me."  
A starry look in her eyes.  
"Oh, Il Palaza... I carried out the mission as you commanded, just for you, I think you'll be  
proud, and let me do what I can for you, and be yours, and..."  
  
this week's experiment: To be decided.  
  
Do to an accident, all my stories were deleted, so here are the reloads.  
And if you all don't like it, well, too bad.  
  
Comments? Let me know, eh?  
dimstyle@webtv.com   
dimstyle@yahoo.com 


	2. To kill a Fan Fic Writer

An Excel Saga Fanfic  
  
How do you parody a parody?  
  
By PD Wright  
  
  
Disclaimer: Something borrowed, nothing owned.  
  
At the magnificent hideout of Il-Palaza, the self same commander of the ideological  
organization ACROSS was reading over some papers, and making fairly unhappy  
noises. His bishonen face was also looking decidly unhappy.  
He looked up.  
"Hail, IlPalaza!" Said his two agents, a hyper blond in white, and a rather anemic brunet  
in red. They raised their arms in salute, and beamed.  
"Ahh.. All here, then? Good. Excel!"   
"Yes sir!" said the blonde, for her name just happened to be Excel. "I await your command  
like all good people of this city, for the lord Il Palaza will conquer this city, and then.."  
"Yes, yes," Il Palaza interrupted, "I know all that. I have your assignment."  
"I am ready, sir!"  
"Good! Do you see this?" He handed her the pieces of paper.  
"What is.. to kill a manga artist?'"  
"Yes. It is a piece of fan written fiction. It would not be bad, except.."  
"AAAAHHHH!!! It's got US in here!" Excel screamed.  
Hyatt looked over her shoulder, Blood occasionally falling from her mouth.   
"Yes. It is a fan-written story, featuring us. That would be no big deal, save that  
the author has made us the stupidest of characters."  
Hyatt, pausing to cough another bucket of blood, said: "Oh, my. And I only get a small  
amount of screen time."  
"Yes. For this crime against nature, Excel, you are to assassinate the fan fiction author,  
one PD Wright, aged early 30's, no occupation. Alias The Blue Mask, Tuxedo Shades,   
Dimstyle, Inspector Dim, The Great Train Robber, and many others."  
"Ooh. Sounds like a worthless loser!" Excel said.  
"Yes. You're assignment.. Terminate him."  
"Yes sir! None will survive my wrath! ."  
"And I, sir?" Hyatt asked.  
"You, Hyatt, can assist me in my paperwork."  
"Hail Il Palaza!"  
  
a Desert. Red, with the burning sun high overhead. All along the horizon, a bleached blue sky  
hung  
heavy with wispy clouds. Off a rarely used road, a trailer.   
It's glinting grey sides reflected the bleached sun in beams of tarnished light. A logo, painted  
crudely on the side, two letters: NS.   
Inside, a tv blared about a nation declaring war on it's neighbor. In other words, the same old  
story. The same old song and dance. A hand reached down, flicked a button on the front of the   
tv, it flickered out of life. The owner of the hand then sat on a couch, a bottle of liquor in  
his hand.   
Nabeshin sat there, fuming. He stared at the papers on his table, then with a quick motion,  
got up, strode into the next room, and opened a freezer. From it, he extracted a gun, and   
several boxes of shells. He filled his pockets, turned, nodded to a figure in the next room,  
and exited. From the next room, a voice said:  
"I knew my soup would get him."  
  
An apartment. Two girls sat on the floor, eyes closed. A sad-eyed little dog watched them,  
warily, expecting any moment for one of them to get up off the floor and attempt to eat her.  
Excel sat there. Her brow furried, a drop of sweat falling, her eyes clenched shut.  
Hyatt sat opposite, her eyes shut, a drop of blood falling slowly from her mouth.  
Menchi eyed them warily, as, again, she was worried about surviving the evening.  
Suddenly, the two girls reacted. Excel fell back, her breathing heavy. She smirked.  
Hyatt also fell back.. and kept going. She hit the ground heavily, blood falling from her mouth  
in waterfall waves. Excel watched her partner in alarm.  
"Oi, Hat-chan.. yer not dead 'gain, are ya..?"  
  
A steam room. Two girls sat on the floor. Two DIFFERENT girls, by the way.  
One was rubbing oil onto the other, in ways that usually only happened in fanfics or soft core  
flicks. One was the android, Roppon Matsu, the first. She was applying a generous helping of  
skin lotion to the other, one Misaki Matsuya, who looked great in the towel now draped over   
her, and rather annoyed at the turns this story had taken.  
"Oi, Roppon?" she said, her husky voice echoing around the steamy chamber.  
"Hai, Matsuya-san?" the android replied, still continuing her work.  
"Tell me again why this scene exist in this story?"  
"Well, from what I understand, the Doctor thought this story could use a touch of yuri."  
Silence between them. The fog seemed to thicken a moment, hiding little Roppon Matsu the  
second,  
who was there, well, trying despretly to get a cameo. Misaki finally shrugged, said:  
"I don't see what the Dirty Pair have to do with this.."  
Secrety Momochi approached the Doctor's office door. She paused, all set to knock on the door,  
her creepily smiling face turned down, as scarlet spilled from the office beyond.  
"That can mean only two things" she thought, "Either an enemy of the Doctor's has gotten in and  
assassinated him, or.."  
"Or he's watching Matsuya in the shower again."  
She turned, started to walk off.  
"And for his sake, I hope it's the first."  
  
Excel stood outside an apartment. The full moon shone on her, as barking dogs filled shadows.  
She stared at the long door. Then, with a smirk, she opened it, carefully.  
"Ahh.. The fiend is near."  
She crept inside, slipping from shadow to shadow, as red and blue shades hid her from   
whatever cared to watch. She slipped toward a room. On the walls, posters.  
Most from horror movies of the last few decades. One wall, a large poster of Sailor Saturn.  
Another, the Sailor Senshi. She nearly tripped over a large bound volume of Lovecraft.  
Around her, rock albums spilled from crates like confetti. She turned her cute nose up at the   
music. She crept closer, opened the door.  
Inside, the figure sat. hunched over a computer, it typed at a furious pace, momentarily pausing  
to stare into space before typing again. She smiled.  
She let the door close with a thud. The figure spun, stared at her warily.  
"Who..?"  
"Ah. So you are the famous bad spelling writer, eh? Prepare to meet thy doom."  
"Do I know you?"  
She looked deflated. Anger swelled up, she said:  
"Idiot! I am the person you so recently insulted in your work!"  
"Sailor Saturn?"  
"No!"  
"Umm.. The Flame of Recca cast?"  
"NO!"  
"Er.."  
"I am Excel! Prepare.."  
"Oh, yeah, you!"  
"Yes! Prepare to meet thy doom!"  
Suddenly the door flew open, and Nabeshin stood, framed in the light of the room beyond.   
"Not so fast!" he said.  
"Why not," asked the writer.  
"Never mind! Looks like a caught you at the scene of the crime. It's time for vengeance,   
Nabeshin-fu style!"  
"Not so fast!" said another voice, suddenly.  
"Why.."  
"Quite! I, Koshi Rikudo, have given no authorization for any of this! Justice will be mine to  
deliver."  
Nabeshin turned, a glint in his eye.  
"So, Rikudo, we meet a last!"  
"No, Nabeshin, we meet at first!"  
"Shadup. Stop quoting RHPS lines, and lets get down to it!"  
"As you say!"  
They sped towards each other, fist outstretched, Nabeshin's Afro trailing in the wind.   
And the fighting took off.  
"Um.. Can I get on with my assignment, already?" Excel asked. She pulled her sword out,  
aimed it at the author's head.   
"Prepare to meet thy end!"  
PD Wright slumped down, onto the floor. His head hung in dejection.  
"What? Stand up and fight, coward!"  
"Why should I?"  
"Huh?"  
"What difference does it make? If your gonna kill me, what's the point?"  
"Look, you.."  
A gunshot rang out. Blood splattered the desk like a scarlet wine. Nabeshin stood there, a pistol  
smoking in his hand.  
"Why did you do that?" Excel yelled, her frame quivering.  
"Well, you were taking too long, Excel. Justice needed to be done."  
Rikudo hit him from behind with a ruler, and the fight took off again. They burst thru the wall,  
into the shadowy side street, and vanished down the way.  
Excel watched this, a sweat drop falling from her cute head.  
"All that, for one bad writer.." she said.  
She exited into the night, humming about her Il Palaza...  
  
And to all, a good night.  
C&C welcome, and all that. 


	3. Excel and the One ring

EXCEL SAGA: The Lord of the Ring-dance  
  
Part three of the How do you parody a parody?  
  
By P.D. Wright  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is owned. All is borrowed. No money have I. So to sue is pointless.  
  
Am reloading this due to a error in spellchecking. Thanks all who noticed it.   
  
A black screen. Music starts, miner, low-key. Voices chanting in wordless sounds.  
A voice intrudes: "Puchu, puchu puchu, puchu!"  
Another voice, loader then the other; A conteralto, very masculine voice: "The world is  
changed."  
"Puchu, puchu pucho puuchu!"  
"I feel it in the air."  
"Puuuchu! Puchu puchu puchu puchu!"  
"I smell in the water."  
"Puchu, puchu puchu puchu!"  
"What once was, is now lost.."  
"Puchu Puuuuchu!"  
"For none now living, remember.."  
  
Lights up. In the secret underground base, Ill Palazo is reclining, sipping spring water and  
perusing a large red book.   
"Um, Lord Ill Palazo, sir.." comes a small female voice. He glances up, realizing his two agents  
are there.   
"Yes, Excel, what is it now?" he says, a touch of impatience in his voice.  
"Sir.. you've been so wrapped up in that book, you've not sent us on any all important missions,  
for nothing is more important than our task to take over the city, and then.."   
"Excel, do you have to keep stating our plot every episode? I think they have caught on by now."  
"Yes, well, by your leave, sir, I expect other viewers are probably turning up every week or so,  
so we need to keep them informed also..."  
"Don't you think your being rather overly optermistic, excel?"  
A look of total confusion crossed young excel's face at that point. The other agent, Hyatt, leaned  
over, said:  
"He means, we have been running for several weeks, and by conventional standards, all the  
viewers were likely to get we've already got. At least, I think that is what he means." A drop of  
blood spilled from her mouth.  
"Excellent, Hyatt. I knew you would get it."  
"Yeah," Excel cried, "But were not a conventional show, are we? We shouldn't be judged by that  
should we?"  
"In that case, yes, your right. But then, our viewer ship would be down."  
Excel's expression hit the floor, then into the several subbasements below.   
  
"So, Watanabe, what do you wanna do tonight?" asked Iwata to his rather surly roommate,  
Watanabe. Watanabe growled back at him. Unperturbed, he turned to his other roommate,  
Sumiyoshi.  
"What about you, Sumiyoshi?'  
'I don't know what do you wanna do, Iwata?"  
"I don't know, what about you, Watanabe?"  
"I wanna get some new friends," growled Watanabe.  
  
A load "Nooo-o!" sounded thru the secret HQ of Across. Hyatt blinked. Excel blinked. Ill Palazo,  
er, blinked. A hand tapped Excel on the shoulder, and she found her self face to face with the  
starfield that was Ishi. The Great Will of the Cosmos.  
"Sorry about that. Poor Mr. Pedro's having such a bad day, you know." she said.  
"Well, that's alright, Ishi," Excel said, "But please, do try to get him to lower the sonics, eh?"  
"I'll try to, I will," she said, and vanished.  
  
Meanwhile, at the HQ of the Defense Assurance Agency, the old Doctor Kabapu was gazing at  
the window, as red dawn fell to cool blues and deep shadows. His ever smiling and slightly creepy  
secretary, Momochi, stood there at the desk. He turned, yelped.  
His members had arrived.   
"Don't you people ever knock?" He asked. Watanabe scowled.  
"Are you kidding," he muttered, looking sideways at Iwata and Sumiyoshi. Iwata was busily  
looking at Matsuya, then at adult Roppon Matsu the first with barely disguised lust. Sumiyoshi  
was.. well, there. Matsuya and Roppon where ignoring Iwata, and Watanabe was not looking  
happy.   
Matsuya said, "And what is this new mission you want us to go on?"  
The Doctor squirmed, making the assembled uneasy. It was rarely a good sign when he was like  
this, and Momochi was little reassurance, as her smile was not of the good kind.  
"You said that already," Matsuya said, gazing sideways at the story.   
Sorry. I get carried away.  
"Better you then us," Watanabe muttered.   
ANYWAY!  
"Ow! Stop shouting!" the Doctor said.  
Look, can we get back to this story, already?  
"Already?" Asked Roppon the second, who was here, but was forgotten by your author until  
now.  
She scowled, "The story of my life."  
"Look," Matsuya said, her voice now barely contained, "Can we get to the reason of this  
already?"  
"Oh, right," the Doctor said, then:  
"Um.. I've forgotten now."  
And the faces fell.  
  
The Fanfic author P.D. Wright stared across the table at his nemesis. His blue eyes were like  
diamonds, his long brown hair tied up in back. His hand was clenched. Sweat was running a  
marathon down his face.   
His opponent, Excel creator Koshi Rikudo, was staring at him, his glass fogging over. Sweat ran  
down his face in rivers.  
Between them, a bottle stood. It had been standing there like that for the past thirty minutes. As  
had the contestants.  
Finally, Rikudo sat back, wiped his brow with the back of his arm, his chin with the back of his  
hand.  
"Aha!" Said P.D. Wright, "You moved! That means you gotta take a drink."  
Rikudo cursed, picked up the bottle, and took a heavy slug, returning it to it's former position.  
He glared at the Fanfic author.  
"Why are we doing this?" he asked.  
"You wanted a duel."  
"Yeah, but I meant something like swords.. or race cars... or video games.. hell, even madougu.  
Not staring at a bottle of liquor until one of us tips it over, or moves. What kinda game is this?"  
"A good game to get sloshed by," Wright smirked.  
  
"Excel, Hyatt" Ill Palazo said.  
"Hai!" replied the girls.  
"I do actually have a task for you!"  
"Yes sir! I will do it to the best of my abilities, and even beyond those, for nothing is beyond us  
when we.."  
"Yes, yes, Excel. I want you to go and witness this movie." On the screen beyond, a legend  
appears.  
"The Lord of the Rings..? Isn't that the name of the book you've been reading for the past several  
months?"  
Ill Palazo's face reddened, but he replied, "Yes it is. I have no time, what with my busy schedule  
trying to take over the world, picking movies for Deep 13, and my knitting, I simply have no time  
to go see this adaption of the book. That is your assignment, Excel. See this movie, and the  
second one, and write a three thousand word essay on what works and what doesn't."  
Excel's cute face blanched, she became pale, sweat dropped from her brow.   
"Es..essay?"  
"Yes. You remember, the kind you had to do in school."  
"Oh", she said, then screamed, "Please Ill Palazo-sama, don't make me do an essay! Anything but  
that! I'd rather face the soldiers from episode three again then write an essay! Please.."  
"Stop whining, Excel. My orders stand. Anyway, I'll let Hyatt help you."  
"Oh, thank you, thankyouthankyou.."  
Hyatt, standing there until now mostly forgotten, now turned to Ill Palazo, raised her hand and  
asked:  
"Sir, what kind of movie is this that we are to review?"  
"Ahh. Glad you asked. Yes, it is a fantasy film."  
"Oh," Excel cried, "like Slayers, right?"  
"No, Excel, more like Lodas War."  
Excel's cute face fell again. This time it took out Ill Palazo's wine cellar.  
"I never could understand that series..." she muttered.  
  
Koshi Rikudo was now severely sloshed. The bottle, formerly between the two on the table, was  
held by the creator in a mad binge drink, the kind that spring breaks are made for. The Fanfic  
writer P.D. Wright watched him, amused.  
"Better take it easy with that stuff, Koshi."  
"Shawwaw. I bim drankig sinze before you w're born..."  
"Umm, I rather doubt that.."  
"Whatta ya mean?"  
"Nothing."  
"I dunt haf to take this fom you.. you two bit low live author."  
"And I don't got to take that from someone who does his own dojinshi."  
"I created the thing! I can do damn well what I want with it!"  
"And so can I!"  
"Now hold on.."  
A new voice said, "No, he's right!"  
The two looked up, saw the doors burst open, and a crowd of people standing in the frame.  
Some American, some Asian, some from other parts of the world. All standing wearing white  
shirts with the Excel Saga logo on it.  
"Who the hell," said Rikudo, rising, "Are you?"  
"We are the Excel Fanfiction Brigade! Dedicated to bringing a moment of insanity to everyday  
life."  
Rikudo face faulted. Kobayashi Excel appeared.  
"Fanwriters one, author naught!"  
And she and Hyatt Mikado then proceeded to sing "Ai" at maximum volume.  
"And Ziggy played guitar," P.D. Wright muttered.  
  
Excel walked down the street, her head low. She was watching the street itself, a vaguely silly  
reference to the fact that she  
was down. In feeling. She wasn't feeling good. Oh, hell, you got it by now.  
"Essay.. I gotta write a essay.. Ill Palazo-sama ordered me to, so there's no way out.. I hate  
essays... I gotta write a essay.. Ill Palazo-sama ordered me to.. Essay.. Essay.."  
Suddenly, figure stood in front of Excel. A tall figure, with purple jacket, an Afro.   
"Take heart, Excel," the figure said.  
"Who's?" she asked.  
"Listen. The way to the mountain is long. The way to Morder is fraught with danger. Don't take  
up with the creature Gollum, and you'll make it in one piece."  
"One piece? I hate that show."  
Nabeshin (For it was him) sweat dropped. He straightened his tie, wiped his chin, said:  
"Excel, to reach the lands beyond, you must break the egg shell, for if you don't, you will die."  
Excel appeared with a long sword, a white outfit.   
"And then what... a miracle?"  
More sweat dropping from Nabeshin.  
"Excel, to win over the shadow dragons, find your strength, like Van and Hitomi, beware the  
laughing pyro."  
Excel's eyes glistened. She looked at Nabeshin with something akin to gratitude, her hands  
clamped below her chin. Her single tooth fell out of her silly grin.  
"Thanks, master! I know I can now do this! I can!"  
"Um..." Nabeshin started, waving a hand, "the name is Nabeshin.."  
"Master! I will write the best, most wonderful essay for Ill Palazo-sama that anyone ever read! I  
will do it!"  
She took off, at top speed, for the video store.  
Nabeshin watched her go, a sweatdrop on his head.  
"I wonder if she really understood..."  
  
At the theatre, Hyatt stood by the door, awaiting her partner in crime. Every so often blood fell  
from her lips to hit the ground in silent waves, but that was momentarily. She glanced at her  
watch.  
"I wonder where Senior Excel is? The movie starts in five minutes."  
"Ayasugi-san!"  
She looked over, at Watanabe standing there, as behind him stood Iwata and Sumiyoshi. Both  
dressed as hobbits.  
"Oh, Mr Watanabe."  
"What brings you here, Ms Ayasugi?"  
"I'm here to do a report on a movie for work."  
"Oh? I didn't know you where a critic."  
"Critic?"  
"Don't worry," Iwata interjected, "We wont hold that against you."  
"Are you seeing it alone, Ayasugi-san?"  
"No, my partner hasn't shown up yet.."  
"Oh.. a date, eh?" Watanabe said, his face downcast.  
"Oh, here she is now."  
"She?" Watanabe said.  
A dust cloud approached the theatre. After it subsided, Excel stood, panting in the center.  
"Sorry... I'm.. late... Hatchan..."  
"It's alright, Excel-sempai. We'd better hurry, though.. it's about to start."  
The two girls disappeared into the building. Watanabe, Iwata, and Sumiyoshi stood, stunned.  
"I wonder what movie they're seeing.." Watanabe muttered.  
  
The apartment of Excel and Hyatt. In a corner sat a small white dog, whimpering quietly to herself.  
She was wondering when her owners would return, and feared that starvation might have gotten  
the better of them. She dragged several sheets off of the beds, tied them together, and headed for  
the window.   
Then, shrank from going down there, as it looked far too steep.  
  
The late evening sky darkened, the tempature dropped, and of late, the movie had let out. Hyatt  
was walking with Watanabe, Iwata and Sumiyoshi carried the snoring form of Excel.   
"Damn, this girls' heavy," Iwata muttered.   
'You said you wanted to pick a girl up at the movies,' Sumiyoshi said.  
"That's not funny, Sumiyoshi," he muttered.  
"I didn't know you where into fantasy films, Ayasugi-san." Watanabe said, ignoring the complaints  
of his roommates. As far as he was concerned, it served 'em right. Hyatt coughed up blood (again)  
and said:  
"Well, normally I don't take in movies, but this was a special assignment."  
"Oh, really?"  
"Oh, yes. Our boss was too busy to see it, so he sent us to review it for him."  
"Oh, really," Watanabe said, an expression of bewilderment crossing his face.  
Excel, still very much asleep, muttered, "And he says I explain things too much..."  
  
"Alright, Nabeshin. What brings you here?" asked the bald man. He was tall, bald, and dressed in  
black. A spider tattoo adorned his head. Nabeshin stood by the ticket counter. Posters of current  
and past films lined the walls. A distinct smell of artificial butter lingered in the air. The bald man  
flicked a grey book, counting up receipts.   
"I've not seen you since that trouble in the jungle. Going on several years now."  
"Yes," Nabeshin said, looking over the lobby, "Looks like your doing fairly well for yourself."  
"I get by."  
"Finest kind."  
"I suspect," The bald man now said, eyeing Nabeshin with suspicion, "That you are not here for  
simple idle chitchat"  
"That is so."  
"Well?"  
Nabeshin straightened his tie, looked up, and coughed slightly.  
"Actually," he began, "I need some help with this series I've started..."  
  
A tv screen, on a tiny little handheld. A music video started.   
Il Palazo scowled. I could do better then that, he thought.  
"Hail, Il Palazo," two voices intoned. He looked up. His agents were back.  
"Ahhh.. good. You've returned then."  
"Yes sir! And I, your ever faithful servant, Excel of Across, have completed my mission, even  
thru the dangers of matinee hour, thru the horrors of triple dating, the hideousness of Gollum.."  
"Yes, yes. Excel. And your report?"  
"Right here, sir!" She said, hefting a large and exidngly sloppy looking notebook.  
Il Palazo looked at it warily.   
"That is it," he asked.  
"HAI!" Excel shouted.  
Il Palazo sweat dropped. What have I got my self into, he asked himself..   
  
Menchi flipped thru tv channels. She was rather bored and depressed, not a good combination.  
Eventually, she stopped on a tv commercial showing a dog running thru the kitchen.  
The anuacer said: "Puppy Chow! Made of only the best puppies.."  
Menchi squealed, and hurriedly flipped the channel, not realizing that the anaucer had said,  
"Made FOR only the best puppies.."  
  
Il Palazo stared at the document on his lap. He had only scanned thru two pages, but had found  
only three sentences that pertained to the subject at hand. His right cheek twitched. He glanced up  
at his two agents.  
"Thank you, both. You are dismissed," he said wearily.  
"HAI!" They both yelled, before slipping into the shadows, Excel with a look of disapointmenton  
her face, Hyatt with a drop of blood on her lips. A thud was heard, Excel cried "Hatchan!" and the  
sound of a heavy object moving was heard.  
Il Palazo looked back down at the report, twitching. He read the opening line again:  
"This movie is about a piece of jewelry that is trying to destroy the world. It belongs to this evil  
and bad dressed guy called Sayron, and he's really badly dressed, not like my Il Palazo-sama, not  
at all! This ring is dropped into water, which is a dumb place to hide a ring, I mean really...."  
Il Palazo's cheek twitched again. She even writes the way she talks, he thought.  
As the waning moon rose over the city of F, a load scream was heard echoing thru the darkness.   
"Sounds like Il Palazo-sama likes my essay!" Excel said, as she heaved the dead Hyatt into bed.  
"Oi, Hatchan, your not gonna be dead long, are ya?"  
  
Todays experiment: Failed. 


End file.
